In The Heart Of A Lily
by Main Source of Annoyance
Summary: "God, how she wished James was her first." Lily wonders why she feels this way, even when she is stood his embrace. Not explicit, but better to be safe than sorry. Please read!


She wished she could say she felt like this because she loved him, and not _him_. But she couldn't. She didn't know why she felt like this, why she couldn't fall into this relationship like she had the other.

She didn't miss the arguments, the fights, the angry words and bitter silences. Yet, stood in _his_ embrace, staring at him, remembering the times where she truly believed she loved him, she couldn't help but doubt herself.

And then the memories would come flooding back. The nights where they would just lay together, comfortable with long, meaningless conversations about nothing at all or just silences, both of them lost in their own world. Both of them believing they loved the other,

And then the nights which weren't peaceful at all. The arguments, the fights, the times where she believed that she hated him, that she would be far happier without him.

And then the nights which should have been filled with love, with wonder, with beautifulness and magic. The times where they "made love". But love had never been felt by her. He had never been gentle, even the first two painful minutes before he realised what had happened were rough and all about him. It had always been about him. He had kissed away her pain-filled tears, dressed her gently, whispered apologies all the while... but it was only an apology for hurting her. She hadn't felt love.

As she had rolled gingerly to her side, feeling him wrap his arms around her and kissing the back of her head, his erection stirring again against her legs from where it had fallen when he had discovered her pain, she had cried- but silently. She didn't want to talk to him, to have to explain the tears and the hatred she felt for him. For she had realised she had lost any innocence she had left.

His large fingers groping her, clutching her breasts, her hips, her buttocks, his tongue in her mouth (before he pushed into her roughly, to have his fun) only succeeded in putting her off, dreading what was to come. Her mother had said that foreplay might get her into the mood a bit better. It had certainly worked for him, but not for her.

It had always hurt, not as much as the first time, but it always hurt. He would always force her to be on top, even when she explained it hurt less when she wasn't. He complained she was too tight, too distant. He had even pushed her off once, before dressing himself and rolling to the wall. She had ended up apologising, touching him sweetly, kissing his neck, his ear, his mouth. She pretended to enjoy it a few times after that, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to escape. He didn't finish, he never finished unless he had protection- which she had thrown away without him knowing because she hated it; it hurt even more and made him (and the sex) last longer- because he didn't want to bind himself more to her than he had to.

The fights often started over something small, a badly worded statement, or an offensive opinion. But it would often return to _that_. The thing that he wouldn't talk about. And that was what ended it in the end- or what she decided to pretend ended it. Truthfully, it did have something to do with it, but mainly it was because she didn't love him. She cared about him, but only because he said he loved her. She needed love desperately, she wanted to be loved, pined to be loved. Yet she couldn't continue pretending she loved him.

But why did she feel like this? She knew she loved _him_, or, at least, she certainly thought she did.

Perhaps it was because she felt guilty for those final two months that she was miserable, but pretended not to be.

Perhaps it was because she felt guilty of that final month in which she decided that she didn't really love him, but didn't break up with him until she finally had to- for her.

Perhaps it was because she knew that _he _wouldn't ever have an un-broken girlfriend if he stayed with her.

Or perhaps it was because she would have to adjust to feeling loved.

INTHEHEARTOFALILY.

"Lily?" James' voice tore her out of her thoughts. She jumped, and looked up into the caring eyes of her boyfriend. "Are you okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just in a world of my own- they know me there." She smiled up at him, and he smiled back- but she could see that he was still worried. "Seriously, I'm fine." She leant up and kissed him gently on the lips. "Shall we go get dinner?"

Looking mollified, he nodded and took her hand to lead her to the door. She glanced back to see Remus staring at her. She turned her head quickly back to James, leaning into him to ask him about his most recent escapade to attempt to push her thoughts away.

God, how she wished James had been her first.


End file.
